I want to be a good man, he'd said. And I'm not.
With a sigh she began the long trek back to the city, to the palaces, to
Kiyan and Maati and the bathhouses and her bed. The city, as she passed
through its streets, was alive. The refugees of Cetani had not all
waited in the camp. Or perhaps Kiyan had meant to start bringing them
into the city. Whatever the intention had been, they had come, and Machi
had poured itself out to make them welcome, to offer them food and wine
and comfort, to pull news and gossip from them. The sun was gone, and
the darkness was cold, and yet the city was full as a street fair. And
as chaotic.
She found Kiyan in the palaces looking as exhausted as she herself felt.
Otah's wife waved her near to the long, broad table. Wives of the
utkhaiem were consulting one another, writing figures on paper, issuing
orders to wide-eyed servants. It was like the middle of a trading
company at the height of the cotton harvest, and Liat found it strangely
comforting.
"It can be done," Kiyan said. "It won't be pleasant, but it can be done.
I've had word from the Poinyat that we can use their mines, and I'm
expecting the Daikani any time now."
"The mines?" Liat said. The exhaustion made her slow to understand.
"We'll have to put people in them. They're deep enough to stay warm.
It's like living in the tunnels under the city, only rougher. The ones
in the plain will even have their own water. There's food and sewage to
worry about, but I've sent Jaini Radaani to speak with the engineers,
and if she can't convince them to find a solution, I'll be quite surprised."
"That's good," Liat said. "Things at the bridge are under control. We've
set up a tent for the physicians down there, and there's food enough.
There will be more tomorrow, but I think they've all been seen to."
"Gods, Liat-cha. You look like death and you're cold. Let me have
someone see you to the baths, get you warm. Have you eaten?"
She hadn't, but she pushed the thought aside.
"I need something from you, Kiyan-cha."
"Ask."
"Nayiit. He needs ... something. He needs something to do. Something
that he can he proud of. Ile came back from the battle ..."
"I know," Kiyan said. "I know what happened there. It was in Otah's letter."
"He needs to help," I,iat said, surprised at the pleading tone of her
own voice. She hadn't known she felt so desperate for him. "Ile needs to
matter."
Kiyan nodded slowly, then leaned close and kissed Liat's cheek. The
woman's lips felt almost hot against Liat's chilled skin.
"I understand, Liat-kya," she said. "Go and rest. I'll see to it. I
promise , you.
Weeping with fatigue, Liat found her way to her apartments, to her
bedchamber, to her bed. Her belly ached with hunger, but she only drank
the full carafe of water the servants had left at her bedside. By the
time her body learned that it had been tricked, she would already be
asleep. She closed her eyes for a moment before pulling off her robes
and woke, still dressed, in the morning. The light sifted through the